


landscapes

by brightclam



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Asexual Raphael Santiago, Background Malec, He's ace and meliorn respects that, M/M, Other, aphobes don't touch this story, canon typical anti downworlder bigotry, gender nonconforming meliorn, i shouldn't have to tag that but some of y'all demons ignore that, idk if i headcanon him as nonbinary? still forming my opinions on this fandom, if you think he wouldn't wear cute flowy skirt youre wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightclam/pseuds/brightclam
Summary: Meliorn and Rapheal enjoy spending time together, but are afraid of how far their relationship is going to go. Fortunatly, they've got an eternity to figure out what they want.





	landscapes

**Author's Note:**

> I got the other chapters mostly written but I wanted to split them up so they weren't giant chunks of text.

\------

Raphael just wanders into the seelie court whenever he wishes, now. If the queen caught him, perhaps he would be punished. But the seelies respect the fact that Meliorn cares for him. They stalk him through the trees, giggling and placing bets on events in his life. When he’ll be overthrown by his clan, what he’ll cook next, when he’ll finally be killed, what blood type is his favorite.

 

They care enough to let him into the realm, but that doesn’t guarantee his safety. If he falls for one of their tricks, he could be killed, mutilated, trapped forever. Meliorn would have no right to intervene and no power to free him.

 

After years of living with Camille, seelie manipulation is unimpressive. Raphael is unconcerned.

 

The seelie realm has a reputation of being unsettling, but he finds it very pleasant. Perhaps it’s because its natural beauty is so different from the cultured, stuffy decoration vampires prefer. Or maybe it’s just been so long since he got to walk through a forest that wasn’t dark. The seelie realm isn’t well lit, but it isn’t dark ethier. It’s the closest Raphael is going to walking in the daylit woods, unless Simon finally gives up the secret to becoming a daylighter.

 

Raphael pushes through a curtain of moss, leaving the stalking seelies behind. The clearing is closed off from the rest of the realm by physical and magical barriers. Magnus had been happy to set up the wards for them, and Meliorn had used his nature magic to encourage the plants to grow and shield them. It was Meliorn favorite place for as long as he can remember, and Raphael has fallen in love with it as well.

 

The soft tinkling of the creek is a pleasant white noise, soothing and so different from the dead silence of hotel dumort. Meliorn looks up as Raphael's passing makes the wood of the bridge creak. Raphael smiles at him and teases:

 

“I swear you picked this place so you couldn’t be snuck up on.”

 

Meliorn gives him a piercing look, deathly serious but unruffled.

 

“I did.”

 

Raphael frowns. He hadn’t expected that. Meliorn is full of unexpected twists and turns, but somehow still a stable, calming force. He’s become the only reliable, solid thing in Raphael's life at the moment.

 

“Why would you need to?”

 

Meliorn rises with the flowing grace of a snake, a sly smile on his face.

 

“Seelies are fickle. It’s always best to watch your back.”

 

Raphael sags, almost reaches out to take his hand. He desperately wants physical contact, yet he fears that Meliorn will take it as an invitation and push too far. His insatiable appetite for sex is well known.

 

“I didn’t know you felt that way with your people, Meliorn. I’m always afraid one of my clan will turn on me, but that’s to be expected of vampires. We’re opportunists at heart.”

 

Meliorn gives him a soft smile, the gloss on his lips sparkling weakly in the dim light.

 

“I don’t think any downworlders feel safe amongst their own kind. We are born into a violent, hateful world. The only way to stay afloat is to become violent and hateful yourself. You would not lead your clan if you hadn’t defeated Camille. Luke would not be alpha of his pack if he hadn’t fought and killed for it. It is simply the way of our world.”

 

Meliorn, of course, speaks the truth.  Raphael sighs, sits down on the soft grass. The strands wave like seaweed caught in current, stroking the fabric of his jeans. He knows when he goes to rise, they will try to pull him back down. Everything in the seelie realm wants to keep him there to rot. Even if it can’t devour his immortal body, it wants his mind to turn sweet and soft until it ripens and splits. He prefers the sweetness of Meliorn’s touch to that of the realm’s, so he carefully brushes the most insistent strands away.

 

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I could look at my clan and be proud. I wish I didn’t have to come to someone who could be my enemy tomorrow for comfort.”

 

Meliorn laughs, a deep tone that harmonizes perfectly with the high notes of the creek. He lies down next to Raphael, sprawled out, all vulnerable neck and stomach. Raphael wonders if it’s trust that makes Meliorn bare himself like this, or just confidence in his ability to defend himself. Even Raphael would have trouble killing a seelie knight without help.

 

“Raphael, I hope you know I would never be your enemy.”

 

Raphael grins, a bitter movement that makes his fangs itch.

 

“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

 

Instead of a reply, Meliorn’s head lands on Raphael's leg, an invitation to touch. Raphael takes it and carefully runs his fingers through Meliorn’s hair. It’s straight today, and the dyed tips change from blue to red when Raphael brushes his fingers across them. Meliorn hums in satisfaction and closes his eyes. Raphael watches the pulse flutter in his throat, like a trapped bird, and feels no urge to free it. 

 

He’s happier here, in the dim green of this deadly realm, with his hands buried in the hair of an untrustworthy seelie, than when he’s on his dumort throne, sipping the finest blood a vampire can legally obtain. He tries not to think to hard about what that means.

 

\------

 

Meliorn is aware of how out of place he looks in his flowery shirt and soft white skirt. The vampires around him gleam darkly, all slick leather and blood red lipstick. He enjoys the discomfort he sees in their glaring eyes and snarling mouths. He props his feet up on their expensive mahogany table and tilts his head at that certain angle that always makes Raphael twitch. The tension in the room ratchets up another notch as the vampires lick their lips.

 

He’s tempted to see how long it takes to get one of them to break and lunge at him when Raphael strides into the room. The shoulders of his jacket are bejewelled with blue stones and silver studs, the closest thing to a crown he’d ever wear. He takes a look at his clan, who’ve turned to him and stare with a mixture of apprehension and irritation. He swirls the liquid in his glass—not blood, surprisingly—and gestures for them to leave. Most do, but a few brave (or stupid) ones stay behind. Their spokesperson snarls:

 

“How long are you going to allow a seelie to wander into our home without restraining him?”

 

Raphael gets straight down to business and snarls, mouth snapping open to bare his fangs. It’s a sudden, disconcerting movement, like a snake unhinging its jaw before a large meal. Meliorn wonders how his cheeks don’t rip. The lesser vampires take the hint and retreat, but not before throwing a few last glares at him before they leave.

 

In the resulting silence, Meliorn comments:

 

“They sound like they expect you to put a dog collar on me and walk me around.”

 

He finds the image quite amusing, but Raphael winces.

 

“They were used to Camille fucking and draining any downworlder she could lure into her bed. But befriending a seelie? That they find harder to accept.”

 

Raphael sets the glass down on the end table next to Meliorn’s plush leather seat. He sniffs it and finds it’s wine. Raphael must have gotten it specifically for him; vampires have no use for alcohol. He smiles and takes a small sip. Wine isn’t his drink of choice, but he appreciates the effort. Raphael settles down in the armchair across from Meliorn, clawed fingers tapping nervously on the armrests. 

 

“I apologize for how they acted.”

 

Meliorn smirks, relaxes further into the chair.

 

“I’m not upset. I find it rather refreshing. Having someone attack you rather than manipulate you is a nice change for seelies. That’s why so many of us leave the realm, even we tired of magic hazed air and cruel chattering behind each other’s backs.”

 

Raphael gives him a sad smile.

 

“Well, glad to be of service.”

 

Meliorn sighs, straightens up. There’s a time for snark and a time for truth.

 

“I came to see you, Raphael. I was beginning to worry. You haven’t visited in awhile.”

 

Raphael groans, rubs at his forehead.

 

“Some unclaimed vampire was running around in a panic, draining mundanes. The shadowhunters were, of course, instantly on my ass for breaking the accords. I attempted to explain that she wasn’t part of my clan and thus I had no control over her. They then piled out the door to kill her. I got there first. 

 

She was so young, barely even 15 in human years, and just turned. She had no idea what she was doing, no control over herself. Probably a bleeder who took a bite without knowing what it meant. And the bleeder dens know they get shut down if they turn their mundanes, so they dumped her out on the street so they couldn’t be blamed.”

 

His posture changes suddenly. He leans forwards and snarls, full of tense, barely restrained energy. He looks endlessly angry, as if he’s been this rage has been growing for centuries.

 

“There’s a reason vampires form clans. If a newly turned vamp is on their own, they can’t learn what they need to function. It’s either drink or die. It wasn’t her fault that she was killing, she was unable to do anything else. She should have been brought to me as soon as she began to turn, so that I could help her through the process. Then no one would have gotten hurt. But the shadowhunters wanted to kill her anyways.”

 

Meliorn hums sympathetically. So many downworlders, including himself, have suffered because shadowhunters don’t think in shades of grey.

 

“So what did you do?”

 

“I beat the shit out of the first shadowhunters who got there and sped her back here. Filled her up with legal blood and taught her the basics as quickly as I could. By the time I’d gotten her functional, the shadowhunters showed up on our doorstep, armed to the teeth. I ordered my clan not attack, they’d only get killed for no reason.”

 

Meliorn is becoming concerned. Obviously, Raphael has made it out alive, but there’s other ways for shadowhunters to hurt you.

 

“Fortunately, they brought Alec with them. he listened to me, took a look at the girl, and let me off with a warning. I’m sure it cost him dearly though; shadowhunters hate letting a downworlder get away with hurting their members. ”

 

Meliorn relaxes again.

 

“And the girl?”

 

“Guilt ridden, afraid, overall unhappy. But alive, and learning. She’ll be ready to join the clan soon. Actually, I should go check on her, if you don’t mind?”

 

Meliorn shakes his head, sloshing his drink around the glass.

 

“Not a problem. I’ll wait.”

 

Raphael disappears into the dark hallway he came from. Meliorn drains the last bit of wine from the glass and sets it down, the soft clink ringing loudly in the silent building. He stands up, leaving it on the table, and wanders around the room. 

 

It’s beautiful, in a clean, ornate way. Light shines on the gold frames of the paintings and shimmers on the leather furniture. Meliorn runs his fingers along the smooth curve of a wooden armrest and wonders if they ever accidentally scratch them up.

 

Having circled around the room, Meliorn picks a random door and wanders down the hallway. The entire building is furnished much the same. Some rooms are empty and covered in dust, as if they’re never used. No one has bothered to put sheets over the furniture, so the soft fabrics are furry with thick coats of dust. 

 

Others are filled with riches, carelessly left around the rooms as if they’re unimportant. Meliorn runs his fingers through a pile of gold coins so large it’s spilling off the couch. The coins tinkle when they hit the hardwood floor, and he knocks them off just to hear the sound echo.

 

He grins; he feels like a knight wandering the caves of some fairytale. Now all he needs is a dragon.

 

A door opens behind him and something hisses. He turns slowly and smiles at the vampire who's entered. They don’t return the favor, but he didn’t expect them too. Their lips are pulled back so far he can see their gums, and they hiss deep in their throat. It’s an adequate threat display; perhaps if Meliorn was younger or weaker he would be impressed. Instead he stands up and greets them pleasantly:

 

“Can I help you?”

 

The vampire speaks, clumsy, their mouth obviously more interested in biting than talking.

 

“Yeah. Leave and don’t come back.”

 

Meliorn smiles, amused. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and wonders how angry Raphael will be if he kills one of the clan. 

 

He doesn’t get the chance; Raphael bursts into the room with the force of a hurricane. He catches the other vampire mid leap and throws them across the room. They crash into the wall and fall, the coins flowing around their body when they land. They groan, but stay down, face pressed into the gold. Raphael hisses, his fingers twitching as if he wants to claw something to pieces.

 

Meliorn picks his way through the cluttered room and to his side. 

 

“My knight in shining armor.”

 

Raphael growls and shoots him an irritated look.

 

“Do you have wander about and goad them?”

 

Meliorn smirks.

 

“Never ask me to stay still. It isn’t in my nature. Would you still love me if I were any different?”

 

Both Raphael and the fallen vampire twitch at the word love. Meliorn ignores that and holds his arm out.

 

“Will you walk me out?”

 

Raphael takes it, and steers him out of the room. Meliorn watches the rooms filled with vampires pass with a satisfied smile.

 

“How is your girl?”

 

Raphael hesitates, as if he’s clinging to the petty urge to not reply. Meliorn almost laughs at the thought of a centuries old clan leader giving him the silent treatment. 

 

“She’s better. Started talking, that’s a good sign.”

 

They reach the front door and Meliorn pulls Raphael to a stop.

 

“I brought you something.”

 

Raphael looks surprised and even slightly concerned.

 

“Really?”

 

Meliorn smiles at him, soft and fond, and pulls out a strand of magic, wrapping the green energy around his fingers. He focuses for a moment and an object forms. It’s a small clay pot, but it’s filled with rock instead of dirt. The stone looks like it was grown to fit the pot; it fills it completely.  A patch of bluish green moss clings to the spire of rock sticking out, glowing weakly in the dim lighting of the doorway.

 

Raphael takes it from Meliorn and stares at it, entranced.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Phosphorescent moss from the seelie caves. I know how much you enjoy the plants in my realm, I wanted to bring you one that could thrive even without daylight.”

 

Raphael smiles at him, something terribly vulnerable and sincere in the expression.

 

“Thank you, Meliorn.”

 

Meliorn nods, and turns to leave before Raphael can say anything more. He tries not to think about how fast his heart is beating. He has had enough of love; after Isabelle, he’s afraid to open his heart again.

\--------


End file.
